Chapter 9: Out With It!

At seven-thirty James was driving his car to Abby's house. He was very early, and embarrassed to be so eager, like a schoolboy on a first date. There he was, however, unable to contain his energy in his tiny apartment. As he got closer, he realized just how early he was and detoured away from Abby's house in order to use up some time.

As he drove his circuitous route he purged all the conscience pangs and second thoughts. The adultery was Abby's responsibility, he reasoned. "Am I my brother's keeper?" he asked out loud in the car. He snickered as he shook his head. He had trouble enough being his own keeper, and if could do that, it would be enough. It was an attitude that didn't set quite right, but it would do for the next twelve hours or so.

As he pulled into Abby's driveway he saw her and Bubba's cars parked on the side loop usually reserved for the semi. James was about to park his car with the others when he saw a light in the garage come on and the overhead door slowly going up. No one was lifting the door by hand, so it had to be Abby operating it from inside the house. He took the hint and pulled into the garage. As soon as he turned off the engine the door started closing on its own.

James got out of the car and stood in the silent garage. Aside from the overhead door, there was only a single exit, a doorway that he presumed led to the house. He stood waiting for a short time, expecting Abby to open the door and greet him. When she didn't appear he went in on his own.

The door in the garage opened to an anteroom, a passageway to the main part of the house. Beyond that was another door leading to the kitchen. James tested the doorknob and found that it was open. He decided that he would just keep opening doors until he found her.

The kitchen was dark. Only the lights from the living room beyond served to light his way. James stepped carefully to the source of the light. There, he found his first clue. Hanging from the baluster he found Abby's skirt. Her blouse lay on the fifth step. James caught on to the game.

A pair of pantyhose beckoned him at the top of the stairs. The little, empty feet hung over the final stair riser to ensure that he wouldn't miss it. James gathered up the wayward clothing. As he topped the stairs he found a discarded bra, signaling a turn to the left toward a dimly lit area. He looked to the right before proceeding. It was dark, but he could barely make out a large room and bedroom furniture. He obeyed the path markers and went left. He picked up the final article, Abby's panties at the open doorway of a small bedroom.

"I see that you've been able to follow my trail of breadcrumbs, James."

He stood in the doorway and found her lying in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. Her head rested on two pillows, propped up slightly. She lay still, not moving, serene, with a small light casting shadows from a nightstand next to the bed. Her arms lay at her sides outside the blanket. He could see her shoulders peeping out from the top of the blankets, too. They were bare, showing no signs of sleeves or straps. James assumed that she was nude underneath her sheath, but nothing about Abby was ever for sure.

"I picked up some things for the 'Lost and Found'," he quipped.

"Just set them down in a pile, James, and add your own to it." Abby appeared to be finished with repartee.

James kicked off his loafers and then bent to remove is socks. He unbuttoned his shirt. It joined Abby's clothes in a growing pile. Abby watched him without moving, her expression unchanging. It was James' Rite of Passage, dues he had to pay for his initiation to her private club. Finally only his boxers remained.

"Stop!" she called out in a soft but firm voice. "Let me!" She threw off the bedcovers, exposing her nude body. Of course, James had seen it before, but this seemed different. It was because it was only the two of them. During the threesome Vicki as host was the sponsor. James was presented Abby's nude body as an alluring sight to behold. It was smooth and lithe, offered to his eyes as a delicious cup to drink.

In the private setting he was on his own, and that was a factor that intensified the experience. She was the palette—he the artist. He wanted to dab brushfuls of her and work them onto the waiting canvass. He was stepping beyond his apprentice role. He hoped that Abby felt so, too, because he wouldn't mind if she dabbed some of his pigments to mix with hers.

Abby didn't hesitate to lower his shorts and expose the rest of him. She reached a hand to his erection and smoothed her gentle fingers along the whole length of the underside. She repeated it, time after time. Every now and again, she broke the rhythm, cupping his scrotum or running the tip of her index finger lightly over the top of the glans.

For James, the pleasure was so intense that he nearly forgot to respond. When he did he reached his hands to her tiny breasts, easily covering them. He tenderly rubbed his hands over the nipples. He kept trying new pressures and directions until she began to purr her approving delight.

At long last Abby's fingers slid through some viscous fluid leaking from him. Without saying a word she dropped to her knees. Her tongue extended from between her lips as she captured the clear drops. She didn't swallow it right away. She allowed it to roll about on her tongue in order to detect every possible taste. Finally, she tilted her head up at James. She closed her eyes and smiled. The movement of the muscles of her slender throat told him that she was swallowing. The after-smile said that she was glad.

"This time we won't stop," she told him as she opened her eyes. James flexed his buttocks forward as she buried him in her mouth. She took on the artist's role, swallowing him at one moment, nibbling the glans the next. She used her hands to caress and ease him and to urge his orgasm forward. From time to time she would glance up at him to capture his expression. James didn't see her; he was lost in his sensations. When she decided that it was time for him to do so, he let go and she swallowed all that could send to her. When she had taken all his semen and his penis softened, she stayed on her knees, hugging her face to his groin.

James tugged slightly at her arm as a signal to stand. It was only then that they noticed their difference in height. He bent to kiss her; he tasted himself and didn't care.

"Abby, you were wonderful. Now, it's your turn."

He lifted her easily, holding her in the cradle of his arms and set her on the edge of the bed facing him. Just as Vicki taught him, he had her lie back, draping her spread legs over his shoulders.

He sent his tongue straight into her. It caused her to cry out and push back against his face. He withdrew his tongue and licked the inside of the labia. He probed all around until he found the spot that brought the strongest response. His face was drenched in her essence. She held it against her with her hands. He reached up with his and clutched her breasts. He squeezed the nipples between his thumb and fingertip while lashing her clitoris with his tongue. Abby cried out louder. James increased the pressure on her nipples just slightly and sucked her bud between his lips. It was enough to bring her to the crest. James felt her shudder, then cry out. She shuddered again and pressed herself against his face harder. At last she let out a great sigh and relaxed. A few seconds later she slid to the center of the bed and James climbed on next to her.

"James, that was even better than Sunday night!" she exclaimed, already recovering her energy. "Just think—it was just a warm-up!" She reached down to James' groin to test his hardness. He began to stir. She threw a leg over his thigh. James reached his long arm to her molded bottom and pressed her a little harder against his thigh. He felt her wetness on his leg as she started a rocking motion of her pelvis. She wrapped her hand around him. He pushed back. Soon, he was erect again.

By the time he was ready again, Abby was excited anew. Perhaps, she never ceased being aroused. When she judged him hard enough she nudged him slightly as she rolled to her back. James straddled her and bent his head to suck one of her nipples. She however, pulled him forward with her tentacle fingers that she had buried in the flesh of his buttocks. He took the hint and moved forward. Abby wrapped her legs around his. He probed for a second, found her opening and pushed into her. He looked down at her briefly, and then thrust in all the way. Abby thrust back as hard as she could.

For a while, James led the way. He bore into Abby with long, decisive strokes. Abby, below, let him know that she enjoyed the pounding from her gasps and moans. With each thrust he sensed that her pleasure gradually transformed from a contented filling to a desperate climb to the top of a peak.

After a little while Abby whispered to him, "Hold still! Let me take over." James propped himself on his elbows and knees to allow Abby some freedom of motion underneath him. He felt her tighten the grip of her vagina and the wrap of her legs around his hips.

She thrust up as James held still, adjusting her position so that James made contact with her in just the right places. To James, it appeared that Abby was taking care of her own climax, leaving him for later. Rather than feel neglected, he savored the process, as he was allowed to observe her final ascent.

With each new thrust Abby cried out louder, in a high pitched voice. She held her mound against him a little harder at each pass. As James' confidence grew, he found himself better able to absorb pleasure while holding off ejaculation. As he felt her approaching her moment he paid closer attention. When he thought that she was on her final thrust he pressed back powerfully into her as she rose up.

He was correct in his timing. She collapsed under him. "Oh, James!" she shouted out. James kept himself pressed into her to the hilt, felt her tense and tighten around him, enjoying her climax that he brought to her. He was nearly ready, himself. He thrust a few times. As she was about to begin her decent from orgasm, his organ expanded, and then let go of its semen as he sent his flood inside her. She cried anew as an afterwave of release crested over her as she felt his release.

They were lying nude in the bed in the aftermath of sex.

"We'll do it again later," Abby announced as she peeled back the covers. "I'm going to freshen up in the master bath. There's a guest bathroom next door if you want to use it." She walked naked out of the bedroom and turned right and walked down the hallway.

James lay back, relaxing, before rising to wash up. As he came out of the bathroom he saw Abby walking toward him, wearing a robe. "I'll be right back," she assured him as she descended down the stairs.

A few minutes later she returned carrying a tray with two snifters of brandy. She set the tray on the night stand and then shed her robe before handing a brandy to James and rejoining him on the bed.

"You're wondering why we're using the guestroom," she said after taking a sip of the tawny-colored drink. "That other room is reserved for Bubba and me." James said nothing, just sipped his brandy, and listened.

"You have to understand," she went on to explain. "I love Bubba. I love sex, too—I love all kinds of sex. It's separate. When Bubba's here, I'm his and no one else's. But Bubba's gone a lot."

"Does he know?" James asked.

"When he comes home tomorrow night I'll be wrapped around him. I won't let him think about it or anything else," she answered in an oblique way. "I'll be thinking about him when he's inside me—I won't be thinking of you," she warned. "There isn't always someone available like you," she explained. "I have to take advantage of it. We can have our own time. You're very good, James, and we have a lot more to uncover."

James didn't answer, tried to understand what she told him. He was sure that Abby was a great partner for sex. Beyond that, he was unsure of much else. It wasn't the time for wondering about such things. He told himself to figure it out later.

Abby dipped her finger into her brandy and placed a sticky droplet on each newly stiffened nipple. "Lick them clean!" James wondered if she issued a plea or command. He didn't ponder that question very long, either.

The clock mounted on the classroom wall told the students that the class period was ticking down its final moments. James didn't have to look at the clock. He read the telltale signs of students gathering up books, preparing to bolt to the cafeteria.

"Becky Chandler, I need to see you before you go to lunch," James called out, just in the nick of time as the bell rang just after he said it.

As the students filed out of the classroom Becky remained at her desk. She looked particularly dour as she stared out the window. James closed the door and took a seat at the desk next to hers and turned it so that it faced her. That didn't help because Becky wouldn't turn her face away from the window.

"Becky, you missed your second tutoring session in a row yesterday," James began. "I waited an extra fifteen minutes, but you didn't show." Becky shrugged her shoulders—not the response that James was hoping for. He decided to press on. "Why didn't you show up?"

James thought that it had to do with her father's thinly-veiled attacks on him. He'd been wondering if Becky realized that he was his target. He understood that she might be embarrassed. If she would give him a chance, he would tell her that he wouldn't hold her father's actions against her. He tried to find a way to break through. "Becky, this conversation is going in only one direction."

"What does it matter?" she sighed, still not turning to face him.

"What does it matter?" James asked back incredulously. "You were doing so well! I'm sure that you were headed for at least a C, probably a B in this course. In September you thought that you couldn't pass. Now you're sure to get your diploma in June—if you stick with the program."

"I doubt if I'll be here in June," Becky answered back, and James noticed her eyes welling with tears.

James knew the girl well enough to see that more was troubling her than a problematic father. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "Care to tell me why?"

Becky sobbed a few times. She turned to James and blurted out, "Because I'm pregnant, that's why!"

James was stunned for a moment. His experience was in teaching boys, so he hadn't anticipated Becky's announcement. He gathered himself, realizing how hard it was for her to confide it to him, hoping to know what to do.

"Are you quite sure about this?" he asked.

"I missed my period," she explained.

"There can be other reasons why that can happen," James reasoned. "Have you... ?"

"I'm pretty sure," she interrupted. "I know when it happened, too."

"Have you spoken with your parents?" James asked.

Becky rolled her eyes. "I just can't!" she sobbed.

"Give them a chance, Becky. They won't be happy about it, but they'll always be your parents. They'll help you. You're going to need them"

Becky shook her head. "What if I tell them and I'm not pregnant?"

"Your Guidance Counselor?" James suggested hopefully. She shook her head.

"You're going to need medical attention before too long, Becky," James reminded her.

"I know that!" she protested through her tears. "I just don't know what to do."

"At least, buy one of those pregnancy testing kits in the drugstore. You've got to find out for sure".

"Oh, no! I couldn't do that," she pleaded. "Everyone in town knows me. They would tell my parents!"

"The School Nurse..." James thought out loud.

"No!" she cut him off.

"What about the young man?" James asked. Becky shook her head. "Don't tell me who it is—I think that I know, anyway," he sighed.

"Mr. O'Toole, the only person that I trust is you!" she blurted out.

"Me?" cried James incredulously. Becky nodded, staring at the floor.

James let out a big sigh. "Becky, if I buy you a kit during the lunch hour do you promise to use it, and if you test out positive will you tell your mother and father?" he demanded.

Yes!" she sobbed.

"Come back at three this afternoon and I'll have it for you."

At three that afternoon a sheepish Becky walked into James' classroom. He handed her a small, brown paper bag with the drugstore logo emblazoned on it.

"Here you are," he said, handing the bag to her. "I'm not sure how they work. I know that there are supplies for two tests in the box. Use them both to make sure. Space them out by at least a few hours. Find somewhere private. If it's bad news you won't want the whole world to find out at the same time you do."

"Thanks, Mr. O'Toole," Becky mumbled and took the bag from him. She turned and disappeared out the door.

Later, at five o'clock, Becky was waiting for Brad outside the gym door as football practice was letting out. He was with Donny Harmon and several other players. They were talking about the upcoming playoff game against Livonia.

"Brad, I have to talk to you," she called out as the group walked by.

Brad hadn't seen her standing off to the side. He stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. "Can it wait, Becky? I'm a little tied up here."

"No Brad, it's important," she insisted. The young athlete heaved a big sigh. "I'll catch up with you guys later," he said to the group. They walked on and he ambled to where Becky was standing.

"Brad, I have to tell you something," she said, waiting for Brad to put his arm around her, claiming her, like he always did. It was funny that this time he didn't. She thought that it was because he was aggravated that she had called him away from his friends, but she had too much on her mind to worry about it at that moment.

"I have something to talk to you about, too, Becky," Brad said as he got close to her. Becky started to speak but Brad interrupted her before she could utter a word. "Becky, I think that it would be better if we were just friends," Brad announced. "I think that we should see other people."

"Why, Brad?" she blurted out in shock. "I thought that you loved me!"

"I do, Becky—as a friend. It's just that I want to try ... new experiences."

"Brad, I gave you... everything!" she pleaded.

"Now, Becky, that's blackmail!" he accused. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear it."

"Here's something that you better not pretend that you didn't hear," she blurted out. "I'm pregnant! How do you like that?"

Brad's body stiffened as the 'p' word hit the air. He quickly recovered. "What would that mean to me?" he asked.

Becky's eyes widened. She was unsure if what she felt was anger or fear. "It's your baby, too!" she blurted out.

"How do I know that?" he asked, keeping his cool.

"It happened in the cabin after the Homecoming game," she recounted incredulously.

"Oh, no! We took care of that, remember?"

"No, no!" she insisted. "You didn't pull it out in time. I remember!"

"You made it with Donny that night, too," he pointed out.

Becky froze. What she thought had been real turned out to be a mirage; that which seemed so impossible was reality. She felt many things, but couldn't speak.

"Becky, what's the big deal?" Brad asked. "You know what you have to do. You're eighteen! They have a clinic in Hornell. Get Allison to drive you."

Brad looked down the street to see if it was worth it to try to catch up to his friends. He looked back at his former lover. "It would be better if we kept this to ourselves, don't you think?"

Nathan Smithling and his wife, Janet, were in their bedroom packing up for a weekend getaway over the long Veteran's Day weekend. They were nearly set to go, each with a small suitcase holding enough for three nights away from home.